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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26262619">Hilal</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mybeanieandme/pseuds/mybeanieandme'>mybeanieandme</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Antiques Dealer Andy, Art Critic Joe, Artist Booker, Catholic Nicky, M/M, Quynh is her wife, SO MUCH FLUFF, Single Dad AU, seminarian Nicky, single dad joe, slight misunderstandings that are quickly addressed, teacher nicky</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:29:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,023</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26262619</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mybeanieandme/pseuds/mybeanieandme</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Joe's daughter is in Nicky's class.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Andy | Andromache of Scythia &amp; Quynh | Noriko, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>261</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Parent Teacher Conference</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi. I don't know anything about the British education system or the way catholicism functions within the concept of school (I went to a baptist school...) There is a lot I just don't know, quite frankly. I just wanted to write an extremely AU au where everyone is happy and everything is fine. I'm very sorry for any inaccuracies. Like Nicky can teach primary school but he's also in seminary school? So he's already got a degree but now he's becoming a priest? Just suspend all the disbelief and enjoy the flirting.... </p><p>Inspired by<br/><a href="https://noenoaholi.tumblr.com/post/627859298319564800/prof-al-kaysani-is-wearing-his-best-jeans-for-a">this art</a> and <a href="https://noenoaholi.tumblr.com/post/628180245569257472/themoonwheniamlost-noenoaholi-this-is-a">this art</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She was doing fine in school, but still Joe worried and so he did slightly irrational things like drive to his daughter’s school on a Saturday morning to speak to her teacher. He had worried every moment from her birth until now (just two months after her sixth birthday) that she was alright, that she was happy. Andy had told him it would be like this, when this whole thing had started, but he wasn’t exactly sure how she knew. She and Quynh had been together for nearly ten years and he’d never heard them talk about even wanting kids. </p><p>It was Joe that had always wanted them. When he met Hilal’s mother he thought he finally found someone he could settle down with and have a family. When it wasn’t meant to be, he had moved himself and his daughter to a small picturesque village near a London suburb. It was an odd place to end up, especially all of the places he’d lived in his life, but he had a job like something out of a romantic comedy film so he wasn’t complaining. Art critic and part time gallery owner was a business card most people didn’t believe, looking at him like he was a unicorn (his daughter wishes), but it was true. He and Andy had gone into business together and owned what the Sun reviewed as "an annoyingly boutiquey" place in the city. They specialized in up and coming international artists ready to break onto the world stage, and antiques. Andy and her wife always had an eye for antiques. He thought of this every time he saw one. Especially this one in front of his car right now. It was a saint, Joe wasn’t sure which, but she had been hand carved out of a thick sturdy wood and placed in a small ring of stones. Based on the marks and grooves Joe imagined she was at least 300 years old, but she had been so well taken care of she looked brand new. </p><p>“Is Gertrude a favorite of yours?” came an Italian accent behind him. </p><p>Joe whipped around so quickly his glasses had nearly flown from his face and Joe suddenly wished he’d opted for contacts that morning. </p><p>The man behind him held up his hands placatingly. “I didn't mean to startle you,” said the priest with a gentle smile. </p><p>Joe smiled back immediately, letting his eyes wander all over the pretty man’s face, the curve of his nose and the softness of his eyes. “Startled? I wasn’t startled,” he shook his head with a small laugh. “Gertrude, you said?” Joe turned back to give the statue his attention. “She is gorgeous.”</p><p>“She is the patron saint of gardeners, travelers, widows, and the sick,” said the priest as he approached to stand beside Joe. </p><p>“She sounds like a busy woman,” Joe put his hands on his hips and laughed. </p><p>“And cats,” The man added. </p><p>“She must know what it’s like being a single parent then,” Joe sighed. </p><p>“Are you Hilal’s father?” the priest asked and Joe was forced to look at him again. It was painful. He was that attractive. And a priest? Madre di dio. He would not objectify a priest. </p><p>“I am,” Joe nodded and held out his hand to shake. </p><p>“It’s good to finally meet you,” the man shook his hand, smiling brilliantly as their fingers grasped. “I’m her teacher. Nicolo Di Genova. Most of the kids call me Mr. Nova, but you can call me Nicky if you’d like.”</p><p>“You’re not a priest?” Joe clarified. </p><p>“No,” Nicky shook his head and gestured to his clothes. “But I am in my last year of seminary to become one.”</p><p>“You’re a lot younger than I imagined you,” Joe said and immediately regretted it. “Not that I’d imagined you-.”</p><p>Nicky shook his head and laughed. “Hilal tells me you are an artist just like her. She has a vivid imagination. I would expect no less of her father.”</p><p>Joe wanted to correct him. He merely dabbled in art, Hilal was the true artist in the family. But before he could, Nicky was walking away. </p><p>“Let me show you the classroom,” his voice trailed behind him and Joe followed. </p><p>The path was familiar into the building, a well tended stony walkway that in the opposite direction led directly into the chapel. The town was small enough that this was the only school but diverse enough it was not strictly catholic. In Nicky’s first email introduction to St. Mary’s he’d explained how he was the resident catholic on staff, but the teachers were largely secular. They didn’t have Bible lessons and did not start the day with chapel (Joe had it on good authority they started every day with storytime and puppets as Hilal could not stop talking about. He wouldn’t have it any other way, honestly.) When they visited two weeks ago for the tour Nicky hadn’t been there to meet them, having not yet returned from a summer trip to Rome. They saw where Hilal would hang her coat and take her seat every class. They found the nearest bathroom to the classroom and the nurse’s office. Joe had stashed his cell phone number in Hilal’s desk and taped it into her cubby and given it to the office twice, just in case of emergencies. It looked so different now with Nicky inside, more vibrant. Perhaps it was the colorful posters Joe hadn’t noticed on their first visit. They were in Italian, a series of animals with the word written underneath, so he supposed they must have come back with the man. Nicky smiled at him as he looked away from them. It definitely wasn’t the colorful posters. </p><p>“I thought it might be a fun addition to the classroom,” Nicky explained. </p><p>“It’s nice,” Joe smiled. “It’s better to learn languages young.”</p><p>“Esatto,” Nicky agreed and gestured for Joe to sit in front of his desk. Joe did so, leaning back in the chair as Father Nicky leaned forward, clasping his hands on his desk as he did so. Did his shoulders get broader, Joe wondered. Was he sexier sitting down? “I hope this has eased your worries, Mr. Al-Kaysani. Hilal is a bright and attentive student. She really loves to learn. I know it’s only been two weeks but I think she’s the perfect fit. Everyone wants to be her friend.”</p><p>Joe smiled wider with every compliment this man bestowed on his daughter. He knew she was perfect but it was nice when other people noticed it too. “I do feel better hearing it in person,” he chuckled softly to himself. “I guess I seem like a crazy person- coming here on a Saturday- you must have better things to be doing.”</p><p>“I really don’t,” Nicky shook his head, perhaps a little too quickly. “My students are my priority and helping parents with the separation is part of that. Anything I can do to help you and your wife feel more comfortable, I’m happy to do so.” </p><p>“I’m not married,” Joe shook his head, his brain processing that first somehow and needing to immediately correct it. “And I’m gay.”</p><p>Nicky looked stricken, red rising just under his collar. “My deepest apologies. When Hilal drew her family portrait the first week she drew you and two women and I just- assumed-" the red rose higher "But then your joke outside-. I should have realized,” Nicky shook his head. “Apologies. I should have not assumed.” </p><p>“Nicky,” Joe chuckled and shook his head. “It happens a lot. People assume my business partner and I are together. Hilal probably drew her and her wife. They’re all very close. We're an unconventional family.”</p><p>“That explains a lot actually," Nicky removed the drawing from a folder sitting on his desk, he'd been ready for Joe. He showed it to him. Five stick figured people, Hilal had drawn herself holding his hand and he was holding Andy's hand. Andy was holding Quynh's hand with her other hand and Booker was on the end with a paintbrush in either hand. The sun and the moon were out together, also holding hands. The grass was purple and the birds were red. </p><p>"There were we are," Joe smiled brilliantly and Nicky seemed to suddenly find the drawing even more infinitely interesting.</p><p>"In her portrait from this week she added all her new friends at school,” Nicky said. “Like everyone she meets is part of her family. She’s something special.” </p><p>“She’s got a big heart,” Joe nodded and stood. He needed to be away from the pretty priest who was also his daughter’s teacher. Seminarian. The hot- soon to be a priest therefore out of reach man. He needed to leave. </p><p>They shook hands again and Joe let himself out, waiting until he’d at least gotten outside to sprint to his car, heaving a heavy sigh once shut inside the highest safety rated sedan available on the market. </p><p>He drove the five kilometers home, mind racing. He told himself the feelings were residual ones from Hilal’s stories. Her affection and affinity for her kind teacher gave Joe the predisposition of liking this man. It had to be that. She loved school and loved his class. </p><p>“Baba,” Hilal tapped her hand on his window. He’d pulled up and parked the car and hadn’t even noticed. </p><p>He rolled down the window and leaned out. “There’s my little artist.”</p><p>“Baba, Uncle Book teached me to airbrush,” she said delightedly as she backed up just far enough for him to creak his door open and slip out. </p><p>“He did, did he?” Joe asked, scooping his daughter into his arms and holding her close. He walked the path to the shed in the back, it wasn’t nearly as well kept as the one at school, but then again it wasn’t kept at all, finding Booker in front of a giant canvas. </p><p>“There he is, the worry wart,” Brooker grinned at Joe. </p><p>“Yeah, yeah,” Joe waved his hand dismissively. “You’ll worry too when you have kids.”</p><p>“Yes, when,” Booker laughed, reaching for Hilal and putting her on his shoulders. “For now I will borrow yours to finish this masterpiece.” He handed her a small paint brush and they wrote their names in the top right hand corner of the canvas. Everyone said that LeLivre was the next Banksy. Andy and Joe knew he was better than Banksy specifically because he wasn’t the next Banksy. They had found him in Paris and offered to bail him out of jail if he’d considered following a more legal graffiti path and letting them represent him. He said he’d consider it, they’d put up the money, and then they hadn’t heard from him in six months. He’d gotten off with a warning and light community service and decided that maybe France wasn’t it for him anymore. Andy got him the train ticket and Joe let him live in the shed while he created work for their next gallery show. </p><p>“It is a masterpiece,” Joe applauded before helping his daughter down. “Now what shall we have for dinner?” </p><p>“Spaghettis,” Hilal said and batted her big brown eyes up at him. They both knew it was an unnecessary gesture. They were absolutely having spaghetti.</p><p>“What do you say, Uncle Book? You want Spaghettis?” Joe lifted his daughter once more to carry her inside. </p><p>“Hey, wait a minute now,” Booker shook his head as he followed them. “You never told us how it went.”</p><p>“Yeah, Baba!” Hilal agreed, wrapping her arms around Joe’s neck and kissed his hairy cheek. “Mr. Nova is good, right?! You don’t have to worry.”</p><p>“Mr. Nova is very good,” Joe conceded and his face slipped. Booker’s smile spread like the cheshire cat or perhaps more like the Grinch, Joe thought. </p><p>“Or perhaps better than good?” Booker leaned in. </p><p>“Great!” Hilal offered. </p><p>Joe beamed at his daughter. “Good is better than great.”</p><p>“And that’s what Mr. Nova is,” Hilal said. </p><p>Booker’s grin grew more, definitely the Grinch. “What other words would we describe him with?</p><p>“Nice,” Hilal offered. “He is good at listening, Uncle Book. And he looks like an angel.”</p><p>“An angel? That sounds pretty handsome to me, Joe,” Booker opened the fridge to find their half finished bottle of wine from the night before, grabbing their glasses from the drying rack.</p><p>“He is pretty handsome,” Joe admitted because he could not help himself and he took his glass of wine.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Winsor-Newton</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Nile gets an unexpected visitor and Booker goes to meet this man his best friend has a crush on.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I didn't read through this for spelling things before going to bed because I wanted to immediately post it. I will read it for spelling in the morning.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nile had gone to the market in the morning for fresh bread and a jar of nutella, done an hour of yoga, painted her nails, and was settled in for an indulgent afternoon viewing of her favorite Netflix movie when a knock came at the door. She paused the movie and her hand halfway to her mouth, the perfect bite of nutella balanced on the perfect slice of aromatic bread. She bit into it, groaning as the knock came again. “COMING!” she yelled around a mouth full of food and took her time. </p>
<p>The frustration she felt ebbed slightly as she saw who it was. “Nicky?”</p>
<p>“You’re home!” he clasped his hands together in relief, the gesture of a prayer. Nile let him in, he seemed so out of place for a moment. So much of their friendship existed at school or on small outings together when they both needed to escape the monotony that sometimes was small town life. But then he smiled at her and she smiled back. </p>
<p>“You look happy,” she grinned, the expression never faltering as she sat back down on the sofa beside him. </p>
<p>“Si,” he nodded, still beaming. He was out of breath like he’d run the whole way there, but perhaps it was just nervous excitement. It was the energy he had on the first day of school but enhanced, tapping his toes, finger brushing the corner of his mouth as his wide bright eyes wandered around her modest decor. Simple, clean, tasteful, Nile was proud of her small bohemian home she’d cultivated in the middle of nowhere England, so very far from home. </p>
<p>“Is everything okay?” she asked as she dipped bread directly into nutella. The sound of her voice nearly startled him as he scrubbed his hands over his face. </p>
<p>“Si,” he nodded again and he leaned back, melting into her couch. </p>
<p>She ate her self-care snack as Nicky moved through every emotion imaginable as he failed to verbalize what had stirred such deep feelings in him. Truly this was the most she had seen him emote ever. He had a generally happy disposition with soft smile smiles that ever-so-slightly brought up the corners of the sides of his face. This was new. Nile nodded along to his guffaws and groans like she could translate his dismay. “I’m sorry, Nic- I’m really not sure what’s happening here.”</p>
<p>“He’s so handsome!” whatever she was expecting him to say it wasn’t that. She sat up a little, adjusting the pillow behind her back, well this was suddenly more interesting than her movie. His head tilted back over the sofa and he covered his face in his hands. “With this- hair- and these- soft- the softest- brown eyes.” He swore in Italian under his breath. </p>
<p>“You wanna tell me who we’re talking about?” Nile asked and spread Nutella on a slice of bread for him and passed it over. </p>
<p>He took it, buying himself a little more time as he chewed thoughtfully. “Hilal’s father.”</p>
<p>“No!” Nile gasped, scandalized. “That’s our only rule, Nic! No parents!”</p>
<p>“I KNOW!” He groaned. The two years they’d known each other, Nicky had been her wingman. The dating pool was small and very shallow unfortunately, but they did enjoy gossiping about all the hot men in town. Men for Nile, of course. Nicky was going to be a priest after all. When they’d started mission- find Nile a boyfriend, they’d both agreed, no parents from school. They’d failed miserably in finding Nile a boyfriend, but the whole experience had brought them closer together. This was the first time Nile had ever heard Nicky express any interest in anyone himself. It was a day for a lot of first, she felt like she was seeing a whole new side of him, perhaps a Nicky before he’d put on the collar. </p>
<p>“Is that who you met with today?” Nile fixed them both another slice of bread.</p>
<p>He nodded as he chewed, slipping his shoes off and pulling his knees up into his chest. His sigh was long and hopeless. </p>
<p>“Damn, you got it bad,” Nile shook her head. </p>
<p>“Damn indeed,” Nicky nodded and then shrugged.  “I’m sure the feelings will go away soon.”</p>
<p>Nile’s facial expression spoke volumes and he sighed once more. “You are right, I am doomed.”</p>
<p>“You’ve got one year of seminary left,” Nile reminded him. “And he’s a parent of a student.”</p>
<p>“You’re right,” he said, heart heavy with dismay. “You’re very right.”</p>
<p>The frown he wore was not his usual contemplative one. Nile didn’t like it one bit. “You want to tell me about him?”</p>
<p>Nicky perked up and turned to her. “He is truly so wonderful. So funny- and sweet,” his hands clasped together again as he moved to cross his legs instead. “The way his eyes crinkle when he talks about his daughter- his laughter.”</p>
<p>“Nicky, my friend, I believe you’ve experienced what the french would refer to as le coup de foudre,” Nile went back to dipping bread into hazelnut spread. </p>
<p>“Did it have to foudre so much?” He held his face in his hands and sat like that for a very long while. Long enough that Nile decided to put her movie back on and did not bat an eye when Nicky simply settled in to watch beside her. </p>
<p>Uncle Book was suspiciously eager to volunteer to take Hilal to school the following Monday. They both knew why, but they weren’t going to say it. Joe was happy to finish that morning’s crossword puzzle and morning’s cup of coffee while it was still hot. Plus, after the idea was presented to her, Hilal would have it no other way. She wanted Uncle Book to see all the artwork she’d made at school. </p>
<p>When they arrived the children were quite enamored with the newcomer, crowding around Booker like fresh blades of grass around an oak tree. Hilal informed them all that Booker was a graffiti artist (in the most adorable way possible “Uncle book does streets art!”) and it became pandemonium as everyone asked him questions all at once. Booker tried to answer them as best he could but they were all jumping for his attention now. The bedlam was overwhelming and Booker had the sensation of being a Goliath bested by many mini Davids. </p>
<p>“Bambini cosa sta succedendo,” Nicky reentered his classroom from the hall closet with a dalmatian puppet and a book about a puppy, concern in every feature. <br/>“There’s a giant, Mr. Nova,” said a little boy with a shock of red hair. </p>
<p>“A giant?” Nicky looked to Booker, the concern still evident in his face at this complete stranger in amongst his beloved students, until a realization dawned. “You are the man with the paint brushes.” </p>
<p>Booker didn’t understand exactly but could get through context that Hilal had spoken about him. For a second, Booker thought he looked perhaps relieved and then rather disappointed. </p>
<p>Ah ha. The cheshire smile was back without Joe there to see it. “I’m Booker,” Booker neglected to hold out his hand to shake as Nicky’s were full and Booker’s were keeping his balance in the air to either side of him. </p>
<p>“Mr. Booker, Hilal has told us so much about you,” Nicky smiled gently. Their teacher now returned, the students gave Booker a little space, moving to sit quietly in the half circle they assumed when Mr. Nova read them stories. “I am Nicky. But everyone here calls me Mr. Nova.”</p>
<p>“We like it,” a little girl agreed and Nicky smiled at her. </p>
<p>“Thank you, Charlotte,” Nicky said and handed her the book he was going to read them. “Will you guard this from the pirates while I give Mr. Booker something.”</p>
<p>This nautical turn of events had the children crowding in together again. “Are there a lot of pirates?” a little boy asked.</p>
<p>“We will have to learn new numbers today to count them- that’s how many there are,” Nicky said and the children looked alarmed but in a fighting spirit. </p>
<p>He led Booker over to his desk Hilal’s folder still sitting where he had left it the day before yesterday. Hilal’s drawing was sitting on top and Booker smiled immediately. “The man with the paintbrushes,” he quoted Nicky. </p>
<p>“You should take that home so the whole family can see,” Nicky offered and he slid the dog puppet onto his hand.</p>
<p>“Thank you very much,” Booker smiled softly, the expression looked strange on his face, like he wasn’t sure if he’d ever made that face before. Like he was genuinely touched. “Joe will love it. He’ll take it to the framer immediately.”</p>
<p>“It is worthy of a frame,” Nicky agreed warmly. “We must get to class now. Have a good day, Mr. Booker.” Nicky waved the small arm of the dog with his thumb. “Everyone say goodbye to the giant, Mr. Booker.” </p>
<p>Booker left chuckling to a chorus of “goodbye, Mr. Booker”s and “bye, giant!” with Hilal’s “bye, uncle book” ringing through them all. </p>
<p>The drawing was safely delivered several hours later when Booker returned with groceries and more paint. Joe was delighted and incredibly grateful to not have to drive into town, having spent his post-crossword morning in phone calls with buyers and discussions with Andy. </p>
<p>“I saw your boyfriend,” Booker raised his eyebrows suggestively in quick succession as he set the grocery bags on the counter. Joe sighed long sufferingly. </p>
<p>“I don’t know why I let you have the car,” he started taking things out of the grocery bags and putting them in their proper places.</p>
<p>“So you could shirk responsibility for the sugary breakfast cereals you let Hilal eat,” Joe suggested as he selected a beer from the six-pack Joe was about to put in the fridge. </p>
<p>“Only on Sunday,” Joe corrected him. </p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah,” Booker waved his hand dismissively before popping the bottle cap off with the edge of the counter. “Hilal’s class was really sweet. One kid asked me why I got to draw on walls and he didn’t,” he chuckled. </p>
<p>“What did you say?” Joe’s eyes crinkled as he grinned. </p>
<p>Booker grunted and sipped his beer. “I got timeout for it too.”</p>
<p>Joe barked a laugh. </p>
<p>“Your boyfriend is very cute.”</p>
<p>“He’s not my boyfriend,” Joe shook his head as he put the milk away. </p>
<p>“Yet,” Booker said and Joe sighed again. “He sent you a present.”</p>
<p>The look of genuine shock and delight on Joe’s face betrayed him completely and Booker’s eyebrows shot into his hairline to drive his point home before handing over the drawing. </p>
<p>Joe clapped delightedly and put it directly on the fridge. “This really needs a frame.”</p>
<p>He was in denial all day about how excited he was to go pick up Hilal from school. He was always excited to pick her up. She was his favorite person. But he’d be lying if he said there wasn’t another reason he could hardly wait to get in the car and drive over there. </p>
<p>Nicky was milling about outside, talking to parents as kids were reconnected with their families. He looked so cozy in his cable knit sweater with the collar peeking out beneath. Days were getting colder and Joe had to force himself not to think about making Nicky cozy wrapped in his arms. He barely knew the man for god’s sake.</p>
<p>But the way Nicky’s face lit up as their eyes met pushed all inhibitions away and Joe completely indulged in his fantasy of being the man’s larger spoon. He would spoon that man like he’d never been spooned before and ruin him for all other cuddles. </p>
<p>“BABA!” Hilal squealed excitedly, jumping into Joe’s arms. </p>
<p>He held her tightly and twirled her as she giggled. “How is my little artist?”</p>
<p>“I drew a dog!” she told him with utter delight, nearly shoving the paper at him, too proud of her hard work to hold anything back. </p>
<p>“That’s absolutely spectacular!” Joe beamed at her and the drawing. “You just keep getting better and better.”</p>
<p>“I’m gonna be more famous than Uncle Book,” she said, mostly to herself as she took the drawing back from her father and looked it over.</p>
<p>“Hey, Nicky,” Joe smiled softly as Hilal chattered happily to herself. </p>
<p>“Hello, Mr. Al-Kaysani,” the edge of Nicky’s mouth tipped up and Joe’s heart fluttered. </p>
<p>“Please- call me Joe,” Joe shook his head. </p>
<p>“Okay, Joe,” Nicky nodded and the other corner of his mouth tipped up. </p>
<p>“Would you like to have dinner with us on Friday?” Joe asked without thinking, his brain to mouth filter completely vanishing as if it had never been there. </p>
<p>“I would love that,” Nicky nodded.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Nicky and Nile have dinner with Hilal's family. Joe and Nicky have no chill.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He must’ve been bewitched. It was the only explanation he could think of. Witchcraft wasn’t even something he necessarily believed in but as his feet made a beeline to the school gymnasium he was desperate for any answer he could find.</p>
<p>“I broke the rule!” he announced quite dramatically to the large echoing room. </p>
<p>Nile nearly dropped every basketball she was holding in surprise, ultimately only losing one which bounced conveniently towards Nicky. Nicky promptly picked it up and used it as a prop to look very dejected. </p>
<p>“You’re an interesting person when you’re in love,” Nile told him as she walked her basketballs to their designated basket. </p>
<p>“Who said I was in love?” Nicky asked as if he was genuinely curious, like the whole school could see how much time he spent thinking of Joe. </p>
<p>“I’m saying it now. Don’t worry. No one knows your little secret but me,” Nile shook her head and held her arms out for the basketball. </p>
<p>Nicky shot it into the now full basket of them with perfect precision so they wouldn’t bounce terribly.</p>
<p>“You’re like a basketball sniper or something. You should come help your class in PE,” she said. </p>
<p>“Are they truly all that terrible?” Nicky folded his arms, hand grazing over the corner of his mouth as he considered the possibility. </p>
<p>“They could use some help. A few of them are getting better at bouncing the ball and catching it when it comes back up-,” Nile said skeptically and she leveled him with a look. “Now tell me how you broke the rule.”</p>
<p>“I said I would go to dinner at his house on Friday,” Nicky sighed. </p>
<p>“Wait- did he ask you to come have dinner with you personally or was it a family invitation?” Nile offered him a little wiggle room.</p>
<p>Nicky thought about it. “He said ‘dinner with us’?”</p>
<p>“There you go,” she walked back to her office, through it and into her classroom on the other side, Nicky following along behind her. “That’s not a date- Hilal will be there- and whoever else they live with.”<br/>
“Man with paint brushes,” Nicky nodded.</p>
<p>Nile furrowed her brows, completely baffled. “Sure- the man- with the paint brushes will also be there.”</p>
<p>“And you,” Nicky suggested. </p>
<p>Nile chuckled. “Sure. I’ll go. I’ll be your buffer. If you can score me an invite.”</p>
<p>“I will insist on it,” Nicky assured her, suddenly incredibly relieved he would not face this alone. </p>
<p>That evening at dinner, Hilal spilled the beans, metaphorically at least. A piece of chicken suspended on her miniature fork halfway between her mouth and her plate of tikka masala. “Baba?” she asked sweetly. </p>
<p>“Yes, little artist?” Joe asked his daughter as he took another na’an from the delivery bag their food had come in. </p>
<p>“Why is Mr. Nova coming over for a date on Friday?” she asked and then shoved the chicken in her mouth. </p>
<p>Booker nearly choked on his beer and Joe swallowed as best he could as all the saliva vanished from his mouth. “What was that, Hilal?” Booker recovered first, damn him. “Your baba has a date?” </p>
<p>“It’s not a date!” Joe corrected both of them, albeit half heartedly. “It’s- an extended- parent teacher- thing- we’re just- having him over for family dinner. Uncle Book will be there and you will be there, little artist. Maybe we will invite your Aunties.”</p>
<p>“AUNTIE QUYHN!” Hilal said excitedly and that effectively changed the subject. </p>
<p>But after she was put to bed, Booker just kept staring at him with a knowing smile. They were supposed to be watching football. Liverpool was losing. Joe was occasionally checking the score as he scribbled in his sketchbook, suddenly feeling inspired lately to create art again. “What are you making for this family dinner then, there- baba?”</p>
<p>“Lasagna?” Joe answered haughtily the first food that came to mind. It was the wrong choice. </p>
<p>“For your new Italian boyfriend?” Booker raised an eyebrow. </p>
<p>“You’re the actual worst,” Joe sighed and he went back to sketching. </p>
<p>Inviting Nile along was far easier than Nicky had worried it would be. He fretted all day and then all morning, worried that the fretting might be wasted if it wasn’t Joe that dropped Hilal off. He had the man’s phone number- Nicky had found it on almost every object Hilal had in her possession (clearly he liked to be prepared for any eventuality where Hilal was left with nothing but her yo-yo and a stapler). But it felt strange to use it in this instance, like that was definitely crossing the boundary he was already flirting with. </p>
<p>The fretting wasn’t wasted, Joe made a point of walking Hilal all the way to class, her small hand grasped in his own. Nicky fought the urge to assume it was because Joe wanted to see him and instead focused on how long and slender his fingers were. They were beautifully shaped like something out of a painting. Nicky almost wanted to learn to paint just to paint them. Had Joe ever depicted his own hands in his work? Nicky would like to see it-</p>
<p>“Good morning, Mr. Nova!” Hilal greeted him excitedly. </p>
<p>“Good morning, Hilal,” he smiled back at her gently. “You ready to do some addition this morning?”</p>
<p>“Born ready!” she nodded and ran to her cubby to put her things away. </p>
<p>“Speaking of additions-,” smooth, Nicky, like butter on hot toast. </p>
<p>“Yes?” Joe smiled and his eyes crinkled behind his stylist frames. </p>
<p>“I was wondering if it would be too much of an imposition to bring a friend along to dinner-,” Nicky said and then realized how strange that might sound. “She’s our health teacher here at school- Hilal sees her every monday, wednesday, and friday for PE.” </p>
<p>“The more the merrier,” Joe nodded easily. “I’m making lasagna, enough to feed an army.”</p>
<p>“Wonderful,” Nicky smiled. They stood there in that moment as the quiet morning murmurings of children on a sleepy morning drifted around them. </p>
<p>“I look forward to seeing you then,” Joe winked at him and left. </p>
<p>“He winked at you?” Nile asked over her chicken salad sandwich. </p>
<p>“Si,” Nicky nodded and sighed with the heaviest heart as if that action had devastated him. It had done funny things to his stomach, a swarm of butterflies bursting inside him and fluttering about. </p>
<p>Nile shook her head as she chewed. “It’s a good thing I’m going with you. It sounds like you might not finish seminary school after all.”<br/>
It was a cold splash of water to his face, the warm gooey feeling replaced with the complications of actually existing and all the responsibilities he’d signed himself up for. “Would that be so bad?” he asked in the smallest voice. </p>
<p>Nile gave him her softest smile and shook her head. “Not at all. If we believe God brings people into our lives for certain reasons- you’d have to assume this was the same.”</p>
<p>“Everything happens for a reason,” Nicky agreed. “But what if he is nothing more than temptation?”</p>
<p>Nile stopped herself short of rolling her eyes, Nicky could see it and he was grateful for it. “When you came over to whinge about him it sure didn’t sound like he was some sort of incubus. It sounds like you really like him and have a genuine connection. Maybe it’s a bit indefinable right now, but maybe you just need to explore what the definition is.” </p>
<p>He smiled then, really smiled at her. “How do you know just what I need to hear?”</p>
<p>She did roll her eyes then in the most loving way. “It’s almost like we’re friends or something.”</p>
<p>When Friday finally rolled around, Joe was a bundle of nerves. His lasagna recipe had been chosen carefully, something not too heavy but deeply tasty. He’d made the sauce the night before so it could stew together in the fridge. Booker had watched him the entire time with that knowing smile on his face but not saying a word about it. </p>
<p>Perhaps it was that she could feel her father’s general anxiety, or perhaps she was just due for it, but Hilal was cranky. 99% of the time she was perfectly pleasant, even her terrible twos had left Joe wondering what all the fuss was about. But there were moments she had where he saw the temper inside of himself. It took a lot to make him angry, he couldn’t recall the last time he was truly angry, but early into his experience of being a single dad he had distinct moments of frustration. Quiet moments in the early morning when Hilal had been crying all night because she was still new to the world and could not comprehend the complicated goings on around her and was rightfully overwhelmed by them. He would find himself angry that he wasn’t a good enough father. Surely that was the problem. It had taken Andy and Quynh coming over and helping him to see that babies were just a lot of work. </p>
<p>He would remind himself of things like that when Hilal refused to put her socks on because she didn’t like the pattern on them, although they were her favorites. Later she would refuse her shoes and the comfort of her car seat, squirming as they drove. </p>
<p>Joe was gentle with her but firm in his resolve knowing full well once she got to school she’d forget the bee in her bonnet and go about her day. He carried her to class as she sulked over his shoulder, her dress a mess of wrinkles from all her thrashing. </p>
<p>Her mood changed immediately as soon as she saw her friends, hopping out of Joe’s arms and rushing to put her things away. </p>
<p>“She’s a bit grumpy today,” Joe said confidentially to Nicky as he approached. </p>
<p>“We’re all allowed our own grumpy days,” Nicky nodded sagely. They both watched her huddle in together with her friends and giggle. “I’ll let you know how today goes.”</p>
<p>“I appreciate that,” Joe smiled. “You can give me a full report this evening- if you’d like.”</p>
<p>“I would like,” Nicky smiled back. </p>
<p>Around 5 o'clock Nile was over helping him pick an outfit for the evening. He was very grateful. Nicky didn’t understand clothes. He understood they had significance. People started treating him far differently once he’d started wearing the collar. There was a modicum of respect that came with it, as well as authority. Everyone looked to him now for guidance.The role was bitter sweet, and the clothing made the man. </p>
<p>They settled on a pale blue shirt, the color of the sky as the blue broke through the gray and a nicer pant in a brown slack. He looked fresh and warm at the same time. His hair slicked a little back, Nile conceded he looked good. Definitely dressed up enough if this was a date but not so obvious. </p>
<p>Nile, it went without saying, looked stylish as hell. </p>
<p>They arrived right on time and with a bottle of wine. Booker answered the door with Hilal clinging to his shoulders. A very giggly piggyback ride. “They’re here!” Booker announced to the house and Hilal whispered in his ear. He laughed uproariously and beckoned them in as he retreated. </p>
<p>The small took Nicky immediately. It smelled rich and homey. Like a sense memory of a deep comfort he’d long forgotten. “Booker was right,” said a striking woman with a sharp fringe of hair. “You are very handsome.”</p>
<p>Nicky flushed at the tips of his ears and offered her his hand. “I’m Nicky. And this is Nile.”</p>
<p>“Andy,” Andy smiled and shook each of their hands. “And my wife-.” </p>
<p>“Yes, my love?” another woman showed up as if summoned, swirling around and curling into the first woman with all the familiarity in the world, the movement ending in their clasped hands. </p>
<p>“I was about to tell our guests you were in the kitchen getting more wine- but I was wrong,” Andy grinned and kissed her chastely before turning back to Nile and Nicky. “This is my wife Quynh. Quynh, Nile and Nicky.”</p>
<p>“Charmed,” Quynh smiled brilliantly. They were a beautiful couple, creating almost an aura of happiness around them. Their smiles were infectious. </p>
<p>“It’s so wonderful to meet you two, Hilal speaks of you often,” Nicky told them. </p>
<p>They smiled wider now almost in unison. “She’s told us a little about you two too.”</p>
<p>They beckoned them deeper into the house and they were both handed a large glass of wine by Booker whose hands were now free. Hilal was sitting at the counter, munching happily on carrot stick. “MR. NOVA! BABA MADE DINNER!”</p>
<p>“I can smell that,” Nicky chuckled at her and the noise was caught in his throat as Joe turned around. God what a smile. It was something out of a movie where the world fades away and there’s no one else but you two. That man was pretty. </p>
<p>It took a few moments for Nicky to realize there was a conversation going on around him. Nile was telling Quynh and Andy what it was like to teach children of all ages the joys of playing and having fun. Hilal had a carrot stick for each hand now. Andy pulled Booker into their conversation and Joe was left there just for him, uncovering the lasagna to check it. “Five more minutes,” he said to himself but just loud enough for Nicky who was approaching. </p>
<p>“It’s smells delicious,” Nicky told him and Joe smiled at the way his tongue wrapped around each consonant. </p>
<p>“I wanted to try something new. Thanks for being a guinea pig,” Joe winked at him again. This man and his winks, absolutely lethal.</p>
<p>“Can I help in the kitchen somehow?” Nicky offered but Joe was already shaking his head with his warm easy smile, crinkling around the eyes. </p>
<p>“Absolutely not,” Joe told him. “But you can drink your wine if you are inclined and relax.”</p>
<p>Nicky wasn’t sure why but suddenly he wanted nothing more, the tension slipping from his shoulders he’d been carrying all day. That was the funny thing about the dreading and the worry that surrounded his feelings of Joe. When they were together there was only this feeling of pervasive calm that flowed through him to the tips of his fingers and toes. This just made sense somehow. </p>
<p>Dinner was delicious and the conversation was easy. Everyone gathered around the dinner table as if they’d eaten there hundreds of times before and caught up as old friends. Nicky could see how careful Joe’s friends were being, delicate on the subject of why he and Nile were there- it didn’t seem to matter. They did not need flimsy excuses. They all clicked so well. Nile was an art history aficionado who had dreamed of getting a masters in fine arts. Andy and Quynh were quick to encourage this and Booker offered to show her around his art studio. Hilal interjected on occasion when she recognized a name she remembered from the art books her family shared with her. She loved Dali and his melting time. Joe and Nicky fell in together and talked of everything.  It started early with Hilal and how pleasant she’d been for the rest of the day and now they were in the middle of discussing good Italian desserts. This drew Andy into the conversation, it was her turn to be the aficionado. As dinner broke apart Booker led Nile outside to the studio just as the sun started to dip too low. By the time Nicky Joe wandered outside nursing their fourth glasses of wine, the sky was a deep midnight blue with the pale hue of purple. They were lit by the lights from the glass doors of the shed where Booker was gesticulating wildly as he and Nile laughed about Jackson Pollock. </p>
<p>Nicky smiled at them. “I’m glad she’s making more friends. I know it’s difficult for her being so far away from home.”</p>
<p>Joe hummed into his sip of wine. “She seems to fit right in. Andy and Quynh have already invited her to the city next weekend.” </p>
<p>“What a fine offer,” Nicky’s smile grew then and exposed a flash of teeth. </p>
<p>They seemed to be drawn to each other with their own gravity, moving ever closer in the starlight, pale moon shining down as they walked closer together in the dewy grass. </p>
<p>“What do you think they’re talking about?” Nile asked as her attention drew away from Booker’s painting. He turned towards the window even quicker, dimming the lights a little before moving closer to see. </p>
<p>“Well if it’s anything like what Joe’s been talking about- he’s regaling Nicky of the beauty of his eyes for the billionth time,” Booker rolled his eyes lovingly. </p>
<p>“Nicky isn’t any better,” Nile barked a laugh, they tried to stand with their faces not too pressed to the glass but it was hard not to watch, the men seemingly unaware of their audience. Nile laughed again as she spotted Andy and Quyhn in the house doing the same. Hilal was draped over Andy’s shoulder quite obviously asleep. Nile wondered how heavy she felt, but Andy seemed pinned in place as the two men continued their dance. </p>
<p>They finally ended with their shoulders touching as they gazed at the waxing moon. “Thank you for tonight, I had a wonderful time,” Joe couldn’t handle how thick Nicky’s accent was with this much wine in him. </p>
<p>“I’m glad you could come,” Joe’s grin was plastered to his face. “You seemed to enjoy dinner.” He said this like he wasn’t staring at the man the entire time, etching his face into his memory to recall later on the pages of his sketchbook and in the warmth of his bed. </p>
<p>“Your lasagna was delicious," Nicky agreed. "You should taste my tortellini." He finished off his wine. </p>
<p>“I’d love to,” Joe answered as if rising to a challenge, he turned to face him. </p>
<p>“Good,” Nicky said and he raised his eyebrow. </p>
<p>“Good,” Joe pressed their faces so close their lips were almost brushing. </p>
<p>Their mouths came together.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I feel like I need to clarify- (spoilers) nile and booker will at no point be getting together.......</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Flower Girl</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hilal is a flower girl,</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hilal liked being a flower girl. She liked the idea of it at least. She’d not actually been one yet but Baba had promised and he’d had a pretty dress made. It was purple, her favorite shade. </p>
<p>When Baba first started dating Papa, it had been an adjustment. She had to switch classes. Baba was very apologetic for the whole thing but she didn’t mind. She had friends in both classes and saw everyone at recess- changing classes didn’t change your friends. He had been the one to tell her that when she was frightened of what happened between kindergarten and first grade. “You were right, Baba,” she smiled and said. That must have been the right thing to say as Baba had smiled his biggest smile at her- the one so wide his eyes crinkled nearly closed in happiness. </p>
<p>She smiled as she thought of that smile and Papa had smiled his soft smile at her. “What are you thinking of, principessa?” </p>
<p>She met his eyes then and wrung her hands together. “You make baba happy.”</p>
<p>“I am glad you think so. He makes me very happy too,” he extended his arms to her and scooped her up in a hug, the flower on his lapel the same color as her dress. “Are you excited for today? Sure you don’t want to be with him instead?”</p>
<p>Hilal wrapped her arms around his neck and shook her head. “It’s bad luck to see baba before the wedding.”</p>
<p>Nicky chuckled. “You’re right, that’s true. Plus I need your help more than he does.”</p>
<p>“And he’s probably crying,” Hilal added sensibly and Nicky had to stop himself from laughing so hard he’d nearly drop her. </p>
<p>But Hilal was right. Joe was crying. He’d been quick to it all morning as Andy conducted wedding preparations around him like the maestro she was. It could have been another career for her as far as he was concerned and that thought made the tears stop a little bit because he had to chuckle. She would hate that as a career move. But he was thankful for the help. She had a way of combining the best of their favorite things into this beautiful ceremony. They were getting married in the church (the first time at least, it was important to Nicky who despite dropping out of seminary school in his last few months, remained deeply faithful.) The church looked perfect, as did the reception at the only venue in town large enough for everyone, the pub. </p>
<p>They promised each other another wedding, a lavish one for their families to celebrate their love. But this would do for now. It would more than do, Joe was ready to go to the registrar and file the proper paperwork the day he’d met Nicky. But the ceremony was important, and the community had banded together around them. </p>
<p>It had been a whirlwind of a year that culminated into this moment, walking his fiancé down the aisle at their wedding. Joe watched proudly as Hilal made her way dropping the white rose petals she’d been given to scatter before they followed her down.</p>
<p>Their whole found family was there, Booker was Joe’s best man as Andy took her place to marry them properly. Nile stood proudly beside Nicky, the break in her semester at The Courtauld Institute of Art fitting perfectly in with their nuptial schedule (though she would have skipped class for this as she definitely couldn’t have missed it.) Quynh sat in the front row beaming up at them as they exchanged their vows and rings. </p>
<p>Nicky opted for traditional and wholesome, Joe went for poetic and personal. They kissed and they were wed. </p>
<p>The day's activities seemed to pass in a blur, both would be happy for the copious amount of photos Nile was surely taking with her fancy camera she’d bought for school (to properly document important historical architecture of course.) They danced with each other and then with Hilal sandwiched between them before she insisted on dancing with Uncle Book. He led her around the dance floor, her small shoes standing directly on top of his freshly polished ones. </p>
<p>“Well what do you think, Hilal?” Joe asked as he and his husband tucked their daughter into bed later that evening.</p>
<p>“Of what, baba?” She asked with a yawn so large she could scarcely cover it with her small hand. </p>
<p>“Being a flower girl,” Joe smiled his softest smile at her and pulled her quilt up a little higher.</p>
<p>“Oh,” she smiled sleepily, the events of the day seemingly catching up to her all at once. “It was almost as good as the cake.”</p>
<p>Joe leaned in to kiss her forehead as she drifted off, taking Nicky’s hand and leading him from the room. </p>
<p>They fell asleep ten minutes later barely out of their clothes, curled around each other like cats.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you very much for reading this story. Apologies for the delay in updates. I just wanted to give them a romantic ending to the story.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm so worried the title of this fan fiction comes across as a Twilight reference.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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